


Seventeen Equals

by winwinnie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, It gets quite angsty so, M/M, Soonyoung is a sad boi, someone tell me how to tag please, well I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinnie/pseuds/winwinnie
Summary: In which Wonwoo left Seventeen shortly after their debut, taking with him Soonyoung's heart."Seventeen. Thirteen members, Three units, One team."Silence."But there's only twelve members?"





	Seventeen Equals

"Why are you called Seventeen if there's only twelve members?"

"Thirteen members, three units, one team."

The reply is instant and natural, slipping off their tongues without thought. It's like an old blanket, worn and comfortable, creating a barrier between them and everyone else, and no one stops to think about the words.

It's their force field , an unbreakable protection that they swore would keep them safe, that could deflect any words thrown at them.

It's their umbrella, faded by use but still working, providing shelter from the rain and storm outside, big enough to fit them all underneath

They've practised the words so many times, so eager to please the unforgiving idol world, that the words have become a phrase instead of separate syllables. It's their attempt to cover up their name, trying to hide the hole where four members had left before they even debuted.

The words are even repeated in their sleep, reminding them of the heavy rings on their fingers and the unspoken promises to each other.

The promises to stay, that they were unbreakable, to keep each other safe, that the bonds between them couldn't be broken no matter what happened.

To remember that they were more than 'one team'.

That they were 'one family'.

They don't think about the actual meaning of the words until they've been said, and then it's too late.

It's frequent in the idol world to have members leave, but every time someone asks about their name, the hole they left behind became a little bit bigger.

"But there aren't thirteen members?"

The words fall out of the interviewer's mouth casually, like she almost doesn't know, but the statement still sounds more like a question.

She doesn't think about them as people, but ways to get headlines, new information. Her brain works in views and subscribers, the constant fear of cancellation looming over her shoulder and the clinking of pennies echo in her sleep.

She's seen too many groups to care about their feelings, just about the failures and successes and the money.

She wants to know how they are dealing with it, to exploit the betrayal they feel, to know what new excuse they have now that the blanket of lies is covering too much. Now that there's too many holes and the blanket has ripped.

The room hardens, the air freezing and silent. No one answers her question, the fake smiles on their faces plastered on to hide the cracks and tears that the blanket used to hide.

She clicks her pen, waiting for someone to reply impatiently, but it's only when they don't that she realises that they don't have an excuse.

That they only had one blanket, but it was gone and no one had stopped to think about it in this way. That the words that had once been dearest friends were barbed and sharp. The smiles remain wooded, painted on.

The atmosphere is wrong.

Everything is wrong.

The empty space they leave on instinct is wrong.

But even if they all know he isn't coming back, the hole doesn't get any smaller, and the unconscious space they leave only reinforces that.

But they're still not ready to let go.

Soonyoung stands at the back, too tired to pretend he's okay. Wonwoo's hands ghost over his palms, and he can't forget.

In the awkward silence, the sound of his fake smile sliding off his face and dripping onto the floor is too loud.

\--------

_"What are you doing?"_

_Soonyoung looks up to see Wonwoo standing by the door, looking at him with a concerned look on his face. He can feel his own face heat up in embarrassment at being caught and hopes desperately that it isn't showing._

_"Nothing..." His voice sounds weak and hollow, which is funny because that's exactly how he feels._

_Weak and hollow._

_Wonwoo frowns, not believing him in the slightest, "It looks an awful lot like you're practicing the dance again."_

_Soonyoung turns, ignoring the younger and putting his music back on. It's pretty quiet, down to the lowest setting, so not to disturb anyone that may still be in the building, but evidently that didn't work as Wonwoo had found him anyway._

_He spins, starting the dance again, focusing on his movement, trying to make it sharper, smoother, better. They're debuting in only a few months, but he still has so much to improve on. No one mentions it, but his dancing is full of mistakes. He can see it in their eyes every time he falls, every time he gets things wrong._

_He can hear the whispers about him, no matter how hard they try to conceal their disappointment._

_He knows that they're all fed up with him, endlessly frustrated that he can't get anything right._

_Every step he takes is slightly out of time, and it's almost frustrating how no one else seems to notice his obvious failures._

_Caught up in his thoughts, he steps forward to quickly and the following spin is majorly off, causing him to crash into the mirror and stop the routine._

_The mirror is cold under his skin, raising goosebumps as the realisation sets in._

_Yet another failure._

_The urge to give up is gnawing at him, spurred on by the fact that he hasn't been able to get anything right. It's overwhelming, pulling at his arms, legs, heart, telling him to lie down and accept that fact that he'll always be worthless._

_But he can't._

_He tries to calm himself down. He has all night to practice, to make himself perfect. To become finally satisfied._

_And if he doesn't get it tonight, then he has tomorrow, and when he doesn't get that right, he has the day after that, and the day after that, and the day aft-_

_The song stops, signalling the end of the song and routine he's been running through, but the silence seems louder than the music._

_As he turns to press play again, ignoring the mocking count of one hundred and twenty seven playbacks, he notices that Wonwoo hasn't left like Soonyoung assumed, agreeing with the older that he needs more practice and leaving him be._

_He's sat in the corner of the practice room reading a book._

_Soonyoung splutters, not sure why he's so caught up about Wonwoo staying but definitely caught off guard by it._

_Wonwoo looks up, halfway through turning a page, and sees Soonyoung watching him. The page falls and settles on his book, but he doesn't pick it up again, instead locking eyes with the older._

_"What?" He asks, almost as if he doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know that he's showing Soonyoung that he cares._

_Soonyoung stares back at him, not attempting to say anything in case his voice fails. He doesn't want to seem any more useless then he already is in front of Wonwoo. Instead, he clenches his hand into a fist, focusing on how his nails dig into his palm, trying to distract himself._

_He tries to find the line of strength between pain and blood. Leaving bruises will raise questions that he doesn't want to answer, but without the pain he has the focus on Wonwoo._

_He doesn't know which is worse._

_Two hands encompass his own, and he's broken out of his thoughts to meet Wonwoo, uncurling his palms. "Hey." He says, and Soonyoung almost laughs at the concern on his face._

_He hadn't realised that Wonwoo was such a good actor._

_Wonwoo stares at his palm like it's an unsolvable problem, deep in thought. He runs his fingers softly over the crescent shaped marks._

_Soonyoung pulls his hand away, hiding it behind his back awkwardly and trying not to think about how soft Wonwoo's fingertips were. He feels them ghosting over his hand on repeat, sending shivers down his spine._

_"I don't get it." Wonwoo's voice breaks the silence, and when Soonyoung looks up, he's staring straight into his eyes. He doesn't flinch at the sudden eye contact, but his gaze seems to be questioning Soonyoung, cutting him open and putting him on display. "Why do you practice so much when you're already perfect?"_

\--------

The stage lights are too bright to be natural, but too far away to be the comfort of the practice room.

Soonyoung can spend hours in the practice room, going over every detail of a dance until it's finally perfect, working on every twist and turn until it's the best he could possible achieve, letting the powerful music seep into his bones until he becomes part of it.

He can only stand on stage for a few seconds before the walls begin to close in and suffocate him.

It's not fair, how his mind betrays him into morphing the colourful lights into overwhelming chaos, too bright and too loud.

For someone born to perform, his stage fright seems to follow him like a ghost, constantly lingering in the back of his mind.

He doesn't let it show though, plastering on a fake smile and keeping his energetic façade surround him like a bubble. If he acts like everything bounces off him, maybe some of it will.

They walk on stage proudly, heads held high, but to anyone who looks past the fixed grins and waves, it's pitifully obvious that the missing member has left more than an empty space in the choreography behind. More than just a couple of lines in a song are missing.

The fans still cheer, screaming in devotion.

But not love, it's never been love, just idolisation that burns with a short flame. A false burst of enthralment, their hearts captured by sparkly costumes and pretty boys.

The appeal never lasts.

He almost wishes no one has turned up, because performing to an empty stadium full of shame seems better than the eyes on him.

If he messes up now, everyone will see how pathetic he is. He can only prepare himself for the eventual mistakes he will make, trying to ignore the bright phone lights as the fans desperately try to capture every movement they make.

The music starts up, and with it comes the screams of delight.

He can't do it.

It's all going to go wrong.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Worthless.

The members start to move, but he remains frozen to the floor, his arms trapped by his sides, refusing to move even as he pleads to his own mind. It's a sick form of self-sabotage.

His legs are glued to the floor, weighing more than he can move, the heaviest metal he can think of filling his limbs with slowly, molten and boiling. They won't move no matter how hard he tries.

His skin itches like it wants to be scratched off, pins under his skin rising to the surface, sending cold shivers down his spine. He can feel his face heat up, cheeks burning in a combination of shame and embarrassment.

It looks ugly.

The fans are loving it.

He can feel the whispers crawling under his skin, the confusion coming from his members, the sadistic enjoyment of the fans. Their genuine worry is overpowered by the urge to see a rookie group crash and burn.

He stumbles forward, limbs suddenly freed from their frozen state. The lights seem to focus on him, too bright and closing in.

His knees give out and he collapses.

Filtered though thousands of cameras, the entire world watches as he unwilling displays his broken heart.

\--------

_"What are you doing up so early?"_

_Soonyoung peers round the door to see Wonwoo staring at him curiously. He breathes out a sigh of relief, collapsing next to the younger haphazardly, "I wanted to see you."_

_Wonwoo's eyebrows raise disbelievingly, but the pink dusting his cheeks give him away._

_"You're blushing!" Crows Soonyoung, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "I knew it! I knew you enjoyed my company!"_

_Wonwoo raises a finger to his lips, trying to stifle a laugh, "Be quiet. You're going to wake the others," he glances around briefly, before turning back to face Soonyoung, "Besides, I never would have become your boyfriend if I didn't enjoy your company."_

_It's Soonyoung's turn to blush then, his cheeks turning a deep crimson that covers his entire face, a huge contrast to Wonwoo's delicate flush._

_They fall into a comfortable silence, leaning against each other. Wonwoo squeezes his hand and Soonyoung rests his head on the younger's shoulder, relaxing into his warm embrace. They're sat on the floor resting on the wall behind them, but its not uncomfortable._

_In fact, he seems more comfortable now than a few minutes ago when he was lying in bed. His bedroom always seems to be empty, even if it's cramped with the rest of the members and he can hardly move without bumping into someone._

_The sense of loneliness that haunts him whenever he isn't with Wonwoo._

_The twisted want to give up, fuelled by his own mind, that lingers in the back of his heart._

_He sees Wonwoo, and all the self-hatred is gone._

_He leans over to look the younger in the eyes, tightly gripping his hand. Wonwoo glued him back together when he was broken, held faith and comforted him when he felt trapped. He never let go when Soonyoung felt like he was falling._

_A sound comes from one of the bedrooms, and they both freeze, faces inches away from each other. Soonyoung's heart seems to stop, pausing on a single beat and pausing, suspended in his chest. On his leg, Wonwoo's hand digs into his skin, what had once been a casual hold morphing into anxiety._

_The fear of being found out._

_The sound doesn't come again, and they both breathe out in relief, relaxing their tense limbs._

_"I wish we didn't have to hide." Wonwoo's words echo in Soonyoung's head._

_Deep inside, the dancer knows that's what he wants as well._

_To be able to display affection in front of the other members._

_To avoid the endless questions on 'their ideal girl'._

_To be able to kiss Wonwoo in places that weren't the dorm at 3 in the morning._

_"Maybe one day." He replies, squeezing the younger's hand. He doesn't voice his doubts that they'll ever be accepted as who they are, especially since they're in the same group, but he tries to stay positive._

_Once they'd become idols, any hope of realistically having a relationship together without constant harassment had crashed and burned._

_There's another sound, this one from near the door, and Soonyoung jumps, heart skipping a beat. The stress of keeping their relationship a secret making him paranoid._

_"Was that the post?" Wonwoo leans over, trying to see their letter box without getting up, "It's 3:00. Isn't that a bit early for post?"_

_"Maybe it's something important," Says Soonyoung, standing up and walking over the door. He pulls up the curtains, and catches the back of an official looking man walking away from their dorm. He's not wearing the uniform of a post man._

_"There's a letter." Wonwoo's hand's rest on his shoulders, his head facing towards the floor. He gestures to a letter on the floor with his chin._

_Soonyoung bends over to pick it up. The envelope is pristine white, unmarked by anything, and he almost feels like he shouldn't be touching it. It's quite heavy, and the quality of the paper is startlingly good. Expensive, he thinks. Not something that belongs in their apartment._

_He turns it over, expecting to see a name he doesn't know, a wrong address. They can laugh it off, posting the letter again later in the day. The tight ball of worry in his chest will disappear, the feeling that something is wrong leaving with it._

_"That looks posh," says Wonwoo, pulling a face, "Who's it for?"_

_Soonyoung hands it over wordlessly. He can feel Wonwoo's small inhale of surprise on his neck and grips his hand tightly._

_The words 'To Jeon Wonwoo' imprinted in his brain._

_The mood immediately dries, becoming sour and tense. A letter like that can't be something good._

_Good news comes in small smiles, secret kisses, written on patches of skin hidden beneath clothes._

_Bad news is formal, letters and messengers, smart and expensive._

_The younger rips open the envelope without a second thought. Soonyoung notices that his hands are shaking though, his lip twitching._

_He presses himself into Wonwoo's neck, breathing in his scent and letting himself focus on the warmth between them. He wraps his arms around the younger, holding him tight and promising himself that he'll never let him go._

_Wonwoo's heartbeat speeds up and Soonyoung buries his hands in his shirt, digging his fingers into the soft material, twisting it nervously._

_"Who's it from?" He finally asks, his voice muffled from where he's pressed his mouth against Wonwoo's skin._

_The younger's body shudders, and he pulls Soonyoung out of the embrace, looking him straight in the eyes. His face is a sea of emotions, tear tracks staining his cheeks, but his eyes are bright with joy._

_"Wonwoo?" Soonyoung chokes out._

_Wonwoo grabs his hands, gripping them tightly, squeezing hard. "Soonyoung," he breathes out, "It's from SM Entertainment. They want to offer me the chance to become a trainee."_

\--------

It's always too quiet.

Where there used to be too much sound, the silence thrives, and no matter what they do, it stays.

It lives in the gaps of their lives, hidden between the cracks. Just below the splintered edges. It sleeps in the empty bed no one wants to move, the covers neatly made and mocking them.

And they leave it there.

It's too sore to touch, angry and bleeding betrayal, an open wound that hasn't even begun to close up and heal.

But it will heal eventually.

It won't stay open forever, and in time they'll begin to forget the raw emotion that flooded their veins, the flaming anger.

It would be a long process, but they'd eventually forget everything.

But Soonyoung can't.

He melts into the silence and shadows, lost in his emotions, the lingering kisses that Wonwoo pressed to his lips like shards of glass that fill his mouth with blood.

He can't bring himself to visit, doesn't want to face his broken heart more than it already shows.

Doesn't want to leave Wonwoo behind.

The other members have visited, but to Soonyoung, visiting makes it real.

He can't face the other anymore.

He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to.

He simply hides away from the other members, collecting pieces of his broken heart like stained glass.

He doesn't look up at them, keeping his vision trained on the floor, so they can't see the heartbreak written on his face.

Ever since the concert, he hasn't been allowed to go to interviews, rough hands on his shoulders telling him to watch his image. Telling him that the media won't forget. But it's not like the media need anything more to shatter his carefully built façade.

Dating rumours have been plastered over every online forum since Wonwoo left, images of Soonyoung dissected for hints of a relationship until there's nothing left of him but a pretty face.

In a sadistic twist, he's become more popular, fans gorging themselves on his heartbreak, their fake sympathy not even extending to comfort him.

They want raw emotion, they want him to show his devastation on television, so they can use that as evidence as well.

He knows their adoration wasn't real, but it doesn't stop his heart from breaking even more.

\--------

_"You aren't going to tell them, are you."_

_Wonwoo looks up at Soonyoung's words, the confusion on his face showing briefly before melting into embarrassment, the tops of his ears turning a deep red._

_"No."_

_"Why not?" Soonyoung leans back onto the wall behind him, crossing his arms. He doesn't break eye contact with Wonwoo._

_The younger shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, the empty kitchen table seeming more like an interrogation room. The light in the corner even flickers eerily._

_He runs his fingers over the address written on the envelope, imagining the ink staining his fingers and smudging the pristine paper._

_'SM Entertainment' it reads._

_The letter inside confirms Wonwoo's company switch._

_"I don't know," Wonwoo replies eventually, leaning back into his chair and rubbing his eyes. The huge dark circles underneath them are the remnants of months of secret meetings, the early morning becoming the time of freedom._

_Soonyoung has matching circles but his are much more pronounced. The months of extra practice, the desire to become perfect, before he met Wonwoo live in those black smudges._

_Soonyoung had watched as Wonwoo went into countless meetings with Pledis managers, been helpless to convince with them, unable to comfort Wonwoo as they argued about him like he was an object. Like he wasn't a person, but instead something to gain money._

_He'd lied through his teeth about where the younger was to the others, watching as they dismissed his absence without a care._

_He'd comforted Wonwoo as he was finally given the paperwork to sign, confirming his switch, the few sheets of ink and paper seeming far too small for the importance it held._

_And he'd stood back as Wonwoo closed the envelope that held his fate. Once it was posted, he'd be gone. Leaving in the morning._

_The envelope was the last thing holding his connections to Seventeen together. A single thread._

_Wonwoo's hand reaches for Soonyoung's, and he clutches it tightly to his chest. "Are you ready?" He asks, his voice soft in the quiet of the dorm._

_Soonyoung nods wordlessly and pulls him towards the door. They step out together, knowing it's the last time they'll do it both being members of Seventeen. But, as Wonwoo squeezes his hand, he doesn't think that's necessarily a bad thing._

_The morning air is bitingly cold, the chill wind stinging his face. The sun hasn't yet risen and the streets are completely deserted, their 1 AM meetings being the only sign of life._

_They make their way down the metal fire escape, footsteps ringing loud and clear. It's only wide enough for one person, but they make themselves fit._

_The post box is near, just across the road from their apartment, but the walk across the road seems to take forever. Somewhere in the distance, the silence is disturbed by the screeching motor of a car._

_The sudden noise seems to wake them both up._

_"So this is it." Says Wonwoo. He places the envelope on the edge of the letterbox, balancing it carefully._

_Soonyoung doesn't say anything._

_The words in his mind aren't enough to convey what he feels but the silence is suffocating. He grasps for a proper sentence but his mind is empty, filling slowly with the uncontrollable heartache that seeps between the gaps of his armour when Wonwoo isn't there._

_"I love you."_

_The words surprise him, flooding out of his mouth before he can catch up. A rush of small mistakes, they don't fit the moment._

_He should have said something meaningful, something poetic that would mark this moment forever. Not the overused words that croon out of the radio, heartless and detached._

_He starts to apologise, but Wonwoo is smiling, his whole face lighting up._

_"I love you too." The letter slides into the postbox._

_He assumes it hit the bottom, lying on top of countless other envelopes, birthday cards, application forms, 'get well soon's. None of them important, a second thought to someone they didn't know well._

_There would have been a noise, the quiet sound of paper hitting paper, echoing throughout the box._

_Too hard to hear on a busy street, but on an empty road the loudest sound._

_Except all Soonyoung hears is the engine of a car._

_He feels Wonwoo's hands on his side, rougher than they've ever been before, and he feels the pavement rushing up to meet him, the postbox digging into his side._

_Maybe the letter was there, separated from him by a thin wall._

_He sees lights, too bright and sudden to be the soft glow of street lamps. Twin pairs, staring at him._

_He feels wind in his hair, though it's a perfectly calm day._

_He hears the screech of an engine, breaks squealing in protest. He hears shouts, muffled as though they're far away. He hears a thump._

_The shouts become louder as the car doors open, the glass muffling then removed, but he still can't make out what they say. He smells the sour stench of alcohol, clinging to the men._

_He sees his own hands, blurred slightly, small red lines from the gravel scattered._

_He sees Wonwoo._

_"Oh my god!" The men from the car crowd around them, blocking his view of Wonwoo. Their voices are too loud, echoing in the empty street and making his head hurt._

_He tries to speak, but his voice doesn't come out, and he realised that his head is hurting too much to just be noise. He raises a single hand, trying to find the part that hurts the most, the sharp sting that he knows isn't right._

_It comes back dark and sticky._

_Blood. He must have hit his head when he fell._

_That would explain his blurry vision, a small voice in the back of his mind says. But his eyesight doesn't stop him from seeing-_

_"Wonwoo?" His voice is weak, barely even there, but the men hear it. They turn round to face him, a look of surprise on their faces, and Soonyoung realises that they didn't even know he was there._

_He stands up, his legs barely supporting him, and stumbles forward, pushing through the men. A desperation in his heart that he can't describe._

_And he sees Wonwoo._

_He sees the halo of blood, black against the pavement, the yellow street lights reflected in the growing pool. It fills the cracks in the pavement, and with a sick feeling in his stomach, he realises it's still growing._

_It advances towards him, reaching out hands._

_One of Wonwoo's legs is bent into an unnatural position, the white of bone peeking out through his soaked trousers. His foot looks too flat, his shoes merging with skin, all stained with the same sticky dark liquid. The white of bone is there as well, but Wonwoo's trainers were white too and they're both too hard to distinguish from the pieces of seashell that line the mess that was Wonwoo's left leg._

_Soonyoung feels bile rise in his throat, but he can't drag his eyes away_

_. Wonwoo's chest is dipped, one of his arms trapped underneath his back and the other indistinguishable from the black pool. It's almost like he breathed in, but forgot to exhale._

_One of the men gestures for the others to clear the way, and Soonyoung collapses by Wonwoo._

_Their eyes meet._

_Though the rest of his body is covered in blood, his face is pale and clean, not a speck of blood marring his perfect skin. The liquid seeps through Soonyoung's jeans, still warm, but he doesn't move away._

_Wonwoo's eyes don't blink. His mouth is already draining of colour, grey tingeing his lips, a stark contrast between the white of his teeth and the tan of his skin . His fringe has fallen over his forehead, and Soonyoung tentatively brushes it away, careful not to focus on how Wonwoo is already going cold._

_His face is completely clear of blood._

_If his eyes were closed, if he wasn't surrounded by a pool of blood, if his chest was moving, he could almost be sleeping._

_It's then that the silence hits him, the men that killed him gone from sight, and Soonyoung's throat seizes up. He can't breathe, his voice caught in a tangled web of emotions._

_He finally chokes out a sob, and then he can't stop, tears streaming down his face. His cries are loud and ugly, raw emotion struggling to escape. A broken heart pouring out through his face._

_He brings up a hand to his face, wiping uselessly at his eyes, but his sleeves are sticky with blood and it stains his cheeks._

_Wonwoo's blood._

_Something inside him snaps, and he wails, voice weak and broken. His face is red with tears, and his sobs heave at his chest, huge gasping breaths wracking his lungs. Behind him, he is vaguely aware of someone screaming for an ambulance._

_Soonyoung doesn't move from his position._

_He lets the tears come, lets his broken heart take over._

_He takes Wonwoo's hand in his own and gives up._


End file.
